She tears into the paper with enthusiasm and squeals when she has the inner box exposed.
Inside the box is a small porcelain doll with dark hair and a blue dress.
Sofia gasps and lifts it carefully from the tissue paper.
It's too expensive for a child her age, and I could scold him for buying something so lavish for a child who’ll break it in less than a week, but the look on her face is priceless.
"She's beautiful," Sofia whispers.
"I thought you might like her," Dante says, tousling her hair.
Sofia throws her arms around his waist and hugs him tight.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
He hesitates for a moment, then wraps his arms around her and holds her close.
The gesture's awkward and unpracticed, like he's not sure how to receive affection from a child. But he doesn’t pull away.
He just stands there and lets her hug him.
When Sofia finally releases him, she runs to show Marta the doll.
Dante turns to me and picks up the second box.
"This one is for you," he says.
"Gifts are for children, Dante. It's not necessary," I tell him, pushing it away.
After seeing what he got for her, I don't know if I want to know what's in that box for me.
"Just open it," he orders with a smirk, and I sigh.
I wipe my hands on a towel and take the box from him.
The wrapping is simple but elegant.
I open it carefully and find a bag of fresh coffee beans inside.
The label indicates they're from a specialty roaster in Milan and it looks every bit as expensive.
This is the sort of gourmet stuff I could never afford on my own.
"You mentioned you like coffee," he says, and his eyes sparkle with affection. "I thought you might appreciate something better than what we have here."
I look up at him in wonder and shake my head.
His expression is guarded, like he's waiting for me to reject the gift.
But I don’t reject it or him.
I hold the bag in my hands and feel something shift between us as the air charges with electric chemistry.
Not only was it thoughtful but it was generous, like he wants to pamper me, and I can't really refuse a man who wants to do that.
"Thank you," I say. The words come out as almost a whisper. "This is very thoughtful."
"You're welcome."
